


Cuckholdklok

by Lassroyale



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, Funny, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassroyale/pseuds/Lassroyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something was going on behind the closed door of Charles’ office and Nathan was <i>brutally pissed</i> - mostly because it didn't involve him.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuckholdklok

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Halloween fic for the livejournal "brutalbusiness" comm.  
> *sly grin*
> 
>  
> 
> ( **UPDATED as of: 1/22/13:** edited and tweaked from original version.)

 

 

** CuckoldKlok**

 

Nathan Explosion was on a somewhat drunken quest for a midnight snack when he heard the distinct sound of his manager's voice drift down the hall from the vicinity of his office. He paused, considered sticking his head in to see if Charles was interested in a snack too, then decided: "Fuck it." The call of cool ranch Doritos was just too great to ignore.  He'd just turned back towards the kitchen and was grappling with the very serious question as to whether or not he could make nachos with those little packets of powdered cheese from the macaroni boxes, when a second voice floating down the hallway stopped him cold in his tracks.

_"I keepks tryings, but I ams thingkings its is just too bigs to be fittingks in my mouths."_

The sound of Skwisgaar's voice was un-fucking-mistakable...and it was coming directly from Offdensen's office. From _Charles'_ office.

At least a dozen or so terrible thoughts filled Nathan's head immediately, most of which started with: “Oh my god, Charles and Skwisgaar!” and ended with: “Wait, _I’m_ the only one who’s supposed to be fucking the manager!”

And Nathan was really proud of that, to be honest; it wasn’t like getting Charles into bed had been _easy_. In fact, Nathan had had to actually _work_ at getting the other man into bed with him (Nathan actually wasn't that picky - the desk or floor or the nearest wall was fine with him as long as Charles was involved) and had consequently developed a deep resentment for anything resembling that hateful word.  No, he  _really_  fucking hated that stupid, totally un-metal four letter word; it'd managed to interfere with his sex life more than once, because it - _work -_ was what Charles was _always_ doing - Nathan had learned the very hard and blue-balled way that Charles was perfectly capable of withholding sex when something came between him and his work.

And Charles could go for like, a really, _really_ long time without sex. It sucked. Brutally.

Nathan sulked; his mind had automatically started thinking about how much Charles withholding sex from him sucked...which rapidly shifted into memories of how insanely hot Charles always was as _he sucked_ Nathan's cock...which just made him think about how much much he was going to miss Charles' blowjobs...which, _oh god -_ which somehow ended with him imagining  _Skwisgaar sucking Charles cock_ in brutal, ultra hi-def detail.

Nathan sulked even harder; he was starting to get a little pissed off at his own traitorous brain.  His attention was easily snared, however, when Charles' voice again drifted down the hall.  “Why don’t you ah, try to relax your jaw a bit?”

Nathan scowled and began to edge along the hallway, pushed forward by a sense of morbid (and brutal) curiosity to actually _go and see_ for himself what was happening. As he drew closer Charles' office, the conversation became a little clearer.

“Likes this?” came Skwisgaar’s voice, low and muffled behind the closed door. “Ams I be doings it correctedly?”

There was a pause, and then Charles spoke. “Ah, yes. Just like that. Very good Skwisgaar.”

Nathan grimaced. He vented some of his frustration by punching a Klokateer who'd had the unlucky misfortune of happening to be there on some totally unrelated business of their own. The hooded Gear folded up immediately, managing to wheeze out a sincere, _"I'm sorry if I displeased your Lordship!"_  before crumple to the floor with a grunt of pain. Nathan didn't hear him; his focus had been back on the closed door of Charles' office before the Klokateer had even hit the floor.

Several long, excruciating minutes passed before either Charles or Skwisgaar spoke again, and by that time Nathan had reached Charles’ door and was standing with his ear pressed so hard against the side of it that his head was starting to hurt. The two Klokateers who stood on guard to side of their Master Offdensen's door, studiously ignored him for a moment before moving surreptitiously a way’s down the hall - and subsequently away from the temper tantrum that their Lord Explosion seemed to be working towards.

Nathan heard movement on the other side of the door and he jammed his ear against it even harder. He grumbled; he was beginning to get a headache.

“It ams too wets,” announced Skwisgaar. He sounded a little put-out, like he was pouting a little. Nathan grit his teeth - _he_ was the only one allowed to pout at Charles! Uh, not that he pouted of course; pouting was very _un_ -brutal.

“Try and keep your head down for as long as you can,” Charles replied.

There was a sound like…water? And then Skwisgaar whined, “It still ams nots fittinkgs insides of my mouths!” He sounded frustrated. Nathan wanted to punch something – again.

“Look ah, just use your teeth to gently scrape along the outside. Right, that’s good – like that. Now use your lips…ah, perfect. Good ah, good technique.”

“It ams gettingks in my hair!”

“Here, I’ll hold your it back for you.”

There was some more muffled movement from the other side of the door and it sounded little more frantic now, (or at least Nathan thought) and then Skwisgaar exclaimed, “Ungh, dese ams tasteds likes dem dildos!”

“Well, I suppose that it’s an ah, well what one would call an..." Charles paused, and Nathan could just imagine him pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in that sexy way of his whenever he was thinking about something, "... _acquired_ taste,” he finished, at length.

“Ja, I’ll say,” sniffed Skwisgaar.

“Why don’t you go and get yourself cleaned up?” Charles suggested. Nathan was about to bolt away from the door and run and hide somewhere so he could wallow in self-pity and beer, when Charles’ next words made his stomach drop straight through his feet like an anvil. “Murderface, why don’t you go next? Just kneel where Skisgaar was and I’ll be right with you.”

“I schtill schthink thish ish all kinda gay,” came Murderface's surly grumble.

Nathan was stunned. Murderface? Fucking _Murderface?_ Charles was cheating on him with Swisgaar and ungh, _Murderface_? Nathan felt a little sick.

“Oh Charlies, if ams Murderface is too chickens to do its, I’ll do’s it agains! I likes it!” came Toki's enthusiastic exclamation.

Nathan gaped at the door: Toki too? “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he howled, long and loud and really fucking metal, if he did say so himself.

The door opened suddenly and Pickles stuck his head out. After a second, he was able to focus blearily on Nathan who stood there staring at the drummer, his mind numb with shock. “Oh hay Nat’an,” slurred Pickles, wtih a sloppy grin spread across his face. “I fahrgot I was’posed ta find ya earlier!” The red head stepped back, teetering precariously for a moment or two, before sweeping his arm in a wide arc and gesturing towards the inside of Charles' office. “Ahffdensen’s teachin’ us how ta bob fer apples, ‘cause it’s Halloween ‘an stuff.”

Nathan could only stare directly at Charles, who stood by his desk in front of a large metal tub filled with water and ruby red apples. Murderface was kneeling next to the tub, staring at the apples in a disturbing way, like he wanted to strangle them or something. Toki waved at him from nearby, dripping cheerily onto the carpet, his hair sopping wet. Skwisgaar stood next to Toki and ignored Nathan. His attention was focused completely on Toki as he smugly told the other guitarist just how much better at, “Mouth fishingks for dem appleks things,” he was than Toki – as usual.

“Bobbing for…uh…apples?” asked Nathan, stupidly.

Charles arched a brow in a perfect expression of absent curiosity. “Yes Nathan, I was teaching the boys here how to bob for apples, per their request.” He smoothed his fingers down his red tie, and, without missing a beat added crisply: “I had arranged for ah, a more _private_ lesson between you and I later.” Charles looked up at Nathan over the rim of his glasses in that coy little manner of his; the one that made Nathan want march over and shove him right over the desk as he proceeded to fuck Charles' brains out. “Would that be acceptable?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Nathan, regaining some of his senses now that the idea of getting laid had taken root, and relief that Charles was not cheating on him with the rest of the band, flooded through him. “Fuck yeah!” he shouted, definitely warming to the idea.

“Good,” said Charles. He turned back to Murderface and pushed the bassist’s head down into the tub of apples and water, holding it there for a second, his fingers clamped firmly over the back of Murderface's neck. “Now William,” chided Charles evenly, when Murderface began to flail, “remember to relax your jaw and open your throat…”

 

(The End.)

 


End file.
